


All That Burns

by OfDragonBlood



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Season/Series 05, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Non-Canon Relationship, Older Man/Younger Woman, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-21
Updated: 2018-09-07
Packaged: 2019-05-26 07:27:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14995835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OfDragonBlood/pseuds/OfDragonBlood
Summary: The Kingslayer has left Westeros and traveled all the way to Slaver's Bay in what most assume is in pursuit of his younger brother, Tyrion. But what if Jaime Lannister is after more than that? What if he's finally decided that his only chance at seeking redemption for the crimes of his past is to hand himself over to the Dragon Queen?





	1. Truth

**Author's Note:**

> Jaime and Daenerys are two of my favorite characters, and they have a story that I’ve always hoped would be explored further. Stated simply, I can no longer wait for GRRM or the writers at HBO to make this happen, so I’m doing it myself. As you can see, I am following along with HBO’s storyline more than with ASOIAF at the moment, but that is not to say there won’t be more events from the books cropping up in the future. I love both series tremendously, and I also enjoy writing what appears to me in my own little world. Needless to say, there will be a mixture from here on out. As always, please read and review! I’d love feedback on what you all think of these two.

“Well, this certainly is a mess you’ve gotten yourself into, dear brother. Tell me, was it not so recently that our roles were reversed?” Raising a stubby finger, Tyrion Lannister gestured towards himself as he took a step closer to the outside of Jaime’s cell. “Of course, I’d been in your place, rotting away in the Black Cells at our sweet sister’s command . . . whereas now you’re here, wasting away in the Mad King’s daughter’s dungeons. Funny, how circumstances seem to change so quickly.”

Looking up from his place strewn about the filthy dungeon floor, Jaime Lannister grinned at his younger brother’s arrival. After Queen Daenerys’s men had discovered him in Meereen he’d been beaten, captured and taken straight to the dungeons where he’d spent the past several days awaiting whatever punishment the Mother of Dragons decided to bestow upon him next. He couldn’t be more down on his luck, spending every moment awaiting his impending death, and yet even now — after all he’d been through — his little brother still possessed the gift of rousing a smile out of him. 

Jaime had left King’s Landing behind several months ago in his attempt to find Tyrion. Of late, Cersei had become bitter, cold and distant. Day in and day out, enduring rejection after constant rejection, Jaime had finally made the decision that if he couldn’t have the love of the sibling he desired, he would do everything in his power to be with the sibling he knew truly loved him. Varys’s little spiders had passed messages to Jaime along the way to help aid him during his passage, and after a great many weeks of seemingly endless travel he had arrived in Meereen where it was rumored that his younger brother had sought out Daenerys Targaryen to support her in her claim to the Iron Throne.

“Yes, and quite an exit you made, little brother.” Jaime began slowly, his voice hoarse from not having spoken a word in nearly a week. “Truthfully, I feel like I, too, should have gotten some of the credit for our father’s death. Was I not the one who taught you how to properly locate the heart during all those trainings in the tiltyard when we were children?”

“Indeed,” Tyrion agreed, raising his small, childlike hands. “A bit rusty, I’m afraid. It took me two shots. Nevertheless, the end result took full effect all the same.”

The two Lannister brothers shared a brief, sad smile before both men lowered their gazes to the ground.

Tywin Lannister had been a ruthless man and even more so, a ruthless father. Unlike Cersei, Jaime had not shed a single tear for their father’s untimely death. Tywin was a great leader, not even his children could deny that, but a horrible parent. His death would be a harsh blow to Tommen’s reign over the Seven Kingdoms. Jaime knew better than anyone that his son was not the true heir, no matter his surname, and he’d grown tired of supporting kings who had no claim to the Iron Throne. The boy was kind, yes, and much less of a threat to the realm than Joffrey had been, but kindness didn’t win wars. Now that Tywin was gone, Tommen wouldn’t stand a chance.

“How did you know it was me?” Tyrion asked, curiosity getting the best of him.

“Our father was shot in his privy exactly ten minutes after I released you from your cell. I may not be quite as brilliant as you are, Tyrion, but it wasn’t that difficult to figure out.”

“And you’re not angry with me?” Tyrion questioned, narrowing his eyes as he stared at his older brother in disbelief.

For a long moment, Jaime said nothing. He’d seen how the death of their father had torn Cersei apart and yet here he was, fully intact . . . more or less.

“I would’ve done the same thing, had he condemned me to the same fate.”

“Ah, but he would have never done such a thing! You’re the golden child, remember?”

Jaime smiled bitterly but said nothing in return. His silence spoke volumes.

“Why are you here, Jaime? It can’t be the thousand gold dragons Cersei is no doubt offering for my capture.”

“Three thousand.”

“Pardon me?”

“Our sister has tripled the price for your head since you added our father to your body count, as well as offered a lordship to whomever captures you — highborn or low.”

“Have you become so desperate to rid yourself of your position of Captain of the Kingsguard that you would go to such lengths?”

Tyrion eyed his older brother closely. There was something broken in Jaime, no matter how hard he tried to deny it. He could smell it on his brother just as distinctly as the mud and shit he’d been stewing in for the past several days.

“What has Cersei done to you now?”

_A loaded question,_ Jaime thought with a bitter grin. What hadn’t his sister done to him in all their years together?

“As of late, she taunted me over my choice to join the Kingsguard, made her comments on how father never wanted that for me; how I’d shamed him as well as the Lannister name. She had the bloody nerve to do so, even when she knew . . . ”

“Knew what?” Tyrion asked.

“That I had done it all for her. _To be with her._ ” Pulling himself into a sitting position, Jaime cursed, his anger rising to the surface with each word. “I tried to convince her not to let the people of King’s Landing pull us apart, but she kept insisting that it was you who had done the damage.”

The dungeons grew silent as both brothers took in Jaime’s words.

“Did I ever tell you how Cersei used to torment you, long before you were old enough to even realize it?” Capturing a handful of hay between his fingers, Jaime continued. “She treated you like a bloody circus act; inviting the neighborhood children into your nursery to see you — _‘The Demon Child who killed our dear, sweet mother’._ ”

Feeling a muscle in his jaw twitch, Tyrion looked away. He’d heard this tale from Oberyn Martell when the Red Viper had come to visit him in the Black Cells after Joffrey’s assassination. “I’ve already heard this story.”

“But what you may not have heard is that _I let her._ Even then, I was terrified of our sister’s wrath, and even more, of her rejection.” Tossing the hay aside, he swallowed down the lump that had been forming in his throat. Even now, thinking of the way he’d allowed Cersei to treat their baby brother had a way of reducing him to tears. “So day in and day out, I accompanied Cersei as she escorted more children into the nursery to poke fun at you, and each night I cried myself to sleep for what I had done.”

Staring at Jaime in awe, Tyrion found himself completely at a loss for words; a very rare trait for the dwarf. But if anything could do it, it would be the sight of his older brother in his current state. 

“Why are you here, Jaime?” He asked again, a desperate ache sounding at the back of his throat. “You’re a fool to have come, no matter the reason. The Targaryen girl will show you no mercy.”

“I’ve always enjoyed a violent woman.”

Tyrion frowned. The Lannister brothers had always been known for their sharp tongue, and he had often enjoyed partaking in various scraps with his older brother, but this was not one of those times.

“Perhaps mercy is not what I’m after,” Jaime offered.

“Finally seeking forgiveness for your crimes?”

Chuckling, Jaime shook his head. “I think we both know that my crimes are past forgiveness.”

_“What then?!”_ Tyrion exclaimed, clearly growing impatient of this game.

For so long Tyrion had cherished his time spent with Jaime; the only member of the entire Lannister clan who treated him like a person rather than a monster. Despite now supporting Daenerys Targaryen’s claim to the Iron Throne, he did not want the Dragon Queen’s first act of revenge to be the execution of his older brother.

“I missed you,” Jaime admitted, his voice cracking. “I’ve done so much utter shit in my life. I thought it was finally time to do something good. Something to be remembered for . . . for the right reasons.”

“Jaime, you must get control over yourself. Your chances of surviving this are already dire, but perhaps if you plead for forgiveness — perhaps Daenerys will let you live out the rest of your days at the Wall.”

“I have no desire to return to the North and spend the rest of my years freezing my arse off, surrounded by a bloody cock fest.”

“Do you think so little of your life now?”

“I’ve never been afraid to die.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

Glancing down at the stump where his sword hand had once been, Jaime ran his fingers over it. One of the first things that Queen Daenerys’s men had done upon capturing him was taken the golden hand that Cersei had Qyburn make for him back in King’s Landing. Truthfully, Jaime almost preferred being without it. It felt like a lie, and after living a life full of them he was growing tired of the deception. 

From the moment Jaime had sliced the Mad King’s throat open he knew this would be his fate. Of course he’d imagined to be at the mercy of Viserys rather than his younger sister, but truthfully, it meant no difference. One way or another the gods had seen fit to make him suffer for his crimes. Years had passed in between the sentence whilst Daenerys grew into the woman that she was today and learned of the man who had murdered her father. Soon she would finally receive the justice she had no doubt craved for her family all of these years. Jaime couldn’t blame her for these desires, but he had to wonder if this would be the catalyst to starting her on her way down the same doomed path as her father.

“Why did you decide to follow her, Tyrion? What makes you think that this Targaryen will be any better than the last?” Jaime finally asked, answering a question with yet another question.

“Because she has to be.” Tyrion responded simply.

XXX

For years Daenerys Targaryen had wondered what she would do if she ever came in contact with the man who had murdered her father. Jaime Lannister. He’d been barely more than a boy at the time, a young man of seven-and-ten — only two years younger than Dany was now — yet he’d still been capable of killing a king. How many men and women had she had put to their deaths since beginning her reign? Her brother Viserys made the first; Mirri Maz Durr the second; and Xaro Xhoan Daxos and Doreah the third and fourth. Though only the second had been done by her own hand, she’d given the orders that took all the rest of their lives. Since then, countless more had been added to that list; people whose names she would never know. There was blood on her hands, as well as her heart. Were they really so different, she and the Kingslayer?

“Your Grace,” Missandei spoke softly, stirring Dany from her thoughts of fire and blood. “It is time.”

Wringing her hands, Daenerys took a deep breath in order to calm herself, but still her fingers shook. Although she had felt many emotions when imagining her father’s killer, she’d never thought that fear would become one of them.

Dany rose and made her way to the throne room. Upon entering, she met Daario Naharis’s piercing gaze as he stood behind Jaime Lannister. On his knees, the Kingslayer hung his head. The blood from the wounds her men had given him had soaked through the chest of his tunic, leaving a dried brown crust of remembrance. His golden hair hung down his face, reaching just to his cheek bones; a dark beard covering the edge of his jaw from months spent without a proper shave. But beneath the blood, hair and dirt, Dany could see that the man before her was beautiful. He was still the man all the ballads had been written for; the most dangerous and most handsome man in all of Westeros. Hair as blonde as wheat, eyes as green as emeralds . . . yet all Dany could see was the man who had stolen her childhood.

“Jaime Lannister, you have the honor of Daenerys Targaryen, Queen of the Anadals and the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lady of the Seven Kingdoms, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, Breaker of Chains, Queen of Meereen and the Mother of Dragons.”

_Quite the mouthful,_ Jaime thought, biting the inside of his cheek to keep himself from speaking these words aloud.

Slowly raising his head, the Kingslayer caught a glimpse of the Dragon Queen from the light of the candles that burnt amongst the marble pillars. She was just as beautiful as the rumors stated — a woman to start wars for. Where Aerys’s features had been hard, Daenerys’s were soft, yet they still had the same eyes — a fierce, supernatural violet hue, and the same silver-gold hair that the Targaryens were known for. There was no denying it, this was no impostor; Daenerys was a Targaryen through and through. But Jaime had to wonder for the second time that day; did the same madness her father possessed run in her veins as well?

“You may approach.”

Shaking off the guards at his sides, Jaime staggered forward on weak, cramped legs. After spending so much time trapped in the dungeons he’d been forced to curl his long limbs up into a variety of uncomfortable positions that he was now paying dearly for. From the corner of his eye he glimpsed Tyrion looking away, clearly embarrassed for his brother. The words his younger brother had shared with him earlier still rung in his ears all too clearly: _“Funny, how circumstances seem to change so quickly.”_ Jaime had spent his entire life pitying his baby brother, watching as he waddled throughout the castle on stunted legs. Now it seemed it was his turn to be pitied.

“Your Grace,” Jaime began slowly. “My travels were long, I thank you for treating me with such kind hospitality.”

Remaining by Queen Daenerys’s side, Tyrion winced at his brother’s insolence as the halls of the throne room grew still and quiet.

“Why is it you’ve come here?” Daenerys questioned, ignoring the brazen Kingslayer’s slight.

“I mean to travel.”

“This is not a game, Ser. I demand to know the truth.”

_The truth,_ Jaime mused. _Well, there’s a first time for everything._

“As you wish, my lady.”

“She is not your _lady_ ,” Ser Barristan Selmy broke in suddenly, a steely gaze in his blue eyes. “She is your _Queen_.”

Catching Selmy’s eye, Jaime smirked. The last he’d heard of the old knight he had been sent away on Joffrey’s command so that Jaime could take his place as Captain of the Kingsguard. For that reason, he knew the man’s hatred towards him was more personal than anything else. _Barristan the Bold._ Even way back when, Selmy had never approved of Jaime’s presence in his precious Kingsguard. Before Robert’s Rebellion, the old knight thought Jaime too young and inexperienced; afterward, he had often been heard to say that the Kingslayer should exchange his white cloak for a black one.

“Silence.” Dany chided softly. After a brief exchange with Ser Barristan, she brought her attention back to Jaime. “Do you deny killing my father, Ser?”

“No.”

“Do you regret killing my father, Ser?”

“No.”

“You swore an oath to protect him, yet you betrayed him by breaking that solemn vow.”  


“I swore a great many oaths the day I took the White. Protecting your father was merely one of them.”

“And you felt there was an oath of more importance?” She demanded, her voice breaking slightly as the suggestion had her anger mounting dangerously.

“Protecting the innocent.” He replied swiftly.

Daenerys shot Jaime a measured look, unsure of just what to make of his words. She’d heard tales of her father’s madness near the end of his reign but had never known the truth of what went on during that time. Her counselors had tip-toed around the subject here and there, but deep down Dany knew there was much they had left unsaid; much they were still too scared to admit.

“After all,” Jaime shrugged his filthy shoulders. “They didn’t call him _'the Mad King'_ for nothing—”

Before another word could be said, strong arms swung through the air as Daario delivered a heavy backhand to the side of Jaime’s face, causing the Kingslayer to fall to his knees once more. Both chuckling and coughing from the impact of the blow, Jaime spit out a mouthful of blood onto the marble floor, his teeth stained red as he looked to Daenerys once more, a cocky grin gracing his features.

“Was it something I said?”

With a brief shake of her head, Dany discouraged Daario from continuing with violence. Although she could not find much sympathy within her to offer the Kingslayer, it had never been her idea of justice to beat a man while he was down.

“Tommen, the one they call ‘the Boy King;’ the one who currently sits the Iron Throne. Is he the true heir of Robert Baratheon, or your bastard son?”

Jaime eyed Daenerys closely. Well, she certainly wasn’t wasting any time. In fact, her words reminded him of an encounter that had taken place nearly a year ago while he’d been held prisoner in the Stark’s camp. Catelyn Stark had approached him the night she’d learned of her husband’s execution; an execution that Joffrey had ordered to be seen through. He could recall how exhausted she looked; how destroyed, and yet the poor woman had only two questions. _Why?_ Why had Jaime seen fit to push her son Bran out of that window? _How?_ How could he have done such a thing?

Of course, the reason was Cersei. One way or another, his reasons always led back to Cersei. He had spent his entire life devoted to doing anything to protect her, and anything to protect their secret. He couldn’t tell Lady Stark the truth that night, but times had since changed. His secrets were no longer his secrets; no longer of value, at least not to him. He knew what he said next would condemn both he and Cersei to their deaths, yet he also knew that their fates had long since been sealed. Joffrey was dead, Myrcella was just as good as dead, and Tommen . . . Tommen could never rule. Perhaps it was best to put an end to his family’s so-called legacy once and for all. 

The thought nearly made him choke with laughter. To think what had happened to Tywin Lannister’s legacy; a legacy that his children had successfully shat all over.

“Tommen is my son, Joffrey was as well. Myrcella is my daughter. They are all of mine and Cersei’s kin.”

_See you in Seven Hells, sweet sister._

The throne room grew silent once more. Rumors of the Lannisters’ incest, infidelity and false claim to the Iron Throne had been running rampant throughout the Seven Kingdoms for years, but had never been confirmed — until now. Everything had changed with just a few short words from the Kingslayer.

“And how is it that you can so easily betray your sister — _your lover_ — by providing me with this information?”

“I am merely speaking the truth; a truth that you and many others came to realize quite some time ago.”

“So you admit to siring these illegitimate heirs in defiance of all the laws of gods and men?”

Jaime hesitated, a clever retort dancing on his tongue. Had the Targaryens not wed brothers and sisters for centuries past? Had it not been rumored that Viserys would have taken his sister as a wife had it not been for his last minute decision to wed her to Khal Drogo in his failed attempt to gain an army? Jaime knew that one of the many things a knight of the Kingsguard must learn to master was the guarding of his tongue. Among all the skills he had mastered however, that had never been one of them. 

Until now, it seemed. 

“I do.”

“Do you think you will be rewarded for your truth — pardoned for your countless other crimes?”

“If it please, Your Grace.”

“And what makes you think you’re worth anything to me?”

And there it was. His bargaining chip. Although no one would ever believe him after being labeled the Kingslayer, there had been a time when Jaime had been closer to Aerys Targaryen than his own father. Loyalty meant everything to him and despite what everyone liked to think, Jaime had remained loyal to the Mad King throughout the majority of his service. He had warned Aerys of Tywin’s plans; warned him not to trust his father. His position in the Kingsguard had all begun as a way to be closer to Cersei, but Jaime had also taken his duty seriously. He even enjoyed the company of the Mad King’s son, Rhaegar Targaryen — even thought of him as an older brother at times. More than that, Jaime had depended on Rhaegar; believed in him when he said he would see to it that things would change when he returned from the Trident. But Rhaegar had been murdered by Robert Baratheon, and never returned, which left Jaime to do the only thing left to be done. Kill King Aerys before he slaughtered thousands of men, women and children.

“I spent years by your father’s side and lived to tell the tale. I can educate you on how he ruled. _I can help make you better._ ”

“How dare you even think to suggest—” Daario began harshly, but was quickly cut off by his queen.

Raising a small, delicate hand, Daenerys silenced the leader of the Second Sons with a deadly look in her lilac orbs. Jaime watched as a heated exchange passed between the Dragon Queen and the member of her Queensguard. There was anger there, disagreement certainly, but there was also a look of lust that could not be mistaken.

_Interesting,_ Jaime mused.

“Ser Barristen Selmy stands on my council. He was Head of my father’s Kingsguard for many years. What makes you think you could offer me anything more than he could?”

“Because while Selmy was out fighting your father’s war for him, I was the one Aerys kept close. _I_ was the one who saw . . . who heard . . . _everything._ ”

Jaime could recall the years he’d spent on her father’s Kingsguard as if they had merely taken place a fortnight ago. The horrors he’d witnessed, standing outside King Aerys’s bed chambers as he raped his wife Rhaella over and over again. Those were horrors he would never forget; shameful memories he would keep with him until the day he died. The only way Jaime had been able to live through it was to go into himself. He’d disappear, attempting to ignore his reality in order to go on with his day to day; serving the king. It was one of his largest regrets, and yet another reason why he felt he owed Daenerys everything.

Her advisors were quick to offer their counsel. 

“Your Grace, surely you can’t be entertaining the idea of allowing the Kingslayer to walk away from such a wicked offense,” Ser Barristan muttered in her ear. 

“His death would be the perfect example to show the people of Meereen what the Mother of Dragons does to those who betray her,” Daario declared loudly as he mounted the steps to stand beside his queen.

Dany felt an intense wave of heat and pressure building up behind her eyes as she contemplated each man’s advice. Jaime Lannister was her father’s murderer, but that did not make his words any less true. He was the only living person who was like to know whom her father had truly been, and what caused his descent into madness. This made her have a connection to the Kingslayer, whether she wanted one or not.

“And why would you willingly do that? How do you profit?”

An honest question; a just question. Jaime had been considering the same question himself for weeks now, ever since he’d first decided to seek out the young queen. Perhaps it was because of the guilt he felt for having a hand at starting the War of the Five Kings. Perhaps it was an attempt at penance for throwing Brandon Stark out of that window in Winterfell. Or perhaps it was because despite the thousands of lives he’d saved from Aerys’s madness and fire, he still felt guilt over stabbing the man in the back the night that Robert’s Rebellion came to an end.

“I will have peace of mind.”

Those were easily six of the most unlikely words that Daenerys had ever expected to hear from her enemy’s lips. Truly at a loss to find her own, Dany looked to Tyrion for guidance but found that her new advisor was just as much at a loss for words as she was. She did not, however, miss the desperate look in his eyes as he pleaded with her not to be rash; to not kill his brother. Since Tyrion had joined her council, Dany had found a great many things to admire the man for, but holding his tongue in her presence while his own brother’s life swayed in the balance had to top them all.

Her decision was made.

“Ser Barristan, please escort Ser Jaime back to his cell. See that he has fresh food and water.”


	2. Counsel

_**“I spent years by your father’s side and lived to tell the tale. I can educate you on how he ruled. I can help make you better.”**_

As the Kingslayer’s words echoed throughout her mind, Daenerys stood with her back to her council room, gazing at the view of the sun setting from the top of the Pyramid of Meereen. Under normal circumstances it would have been a sight to take her breath away. As it was, she barely noticed its beauty as the afternoon’s events replayed in her mind’s eye over and over again. How many sunsets had she taken for granted over the past few years? The thought alone made her long for a simpler time; a time when she’d led the Dothraki by Drogo’s side. In the Dothraki’s eyes, everything of importance should take place under a setting sun. It was a troubling thought; how far she had fallen from indulging in the simplest pleasures of life since Drogo’s death.

_**"Your Grace, surely you can’t be entertaining the idea of allowing the Kingslayer to walk away from such a wicked offense.”**_

Moving on from Jaime’s words, Dany pressed her lips together in thought as she contemplated Ser Barristan’s advice. Honestly, how could she entertain the idea of allowing the Kingslayer to live — much less _join her council?_ Dany had grown to rather like Jaime’s brother Tyrion, she’d even begun to enjoy his company. He was witty, fair and best of all, intelligent. She needed Tyrion and other wise men to offer her counsel, just as she needed men of power to help her to take back Westeros. But did she need his brother? Did she need the man who was not only known as a Kingslayer throughout all Seven Kingdoms, but a vicious oathbreaker as well?

_Tyrion._

Daenerys remembered how the youngest Lannister’s eyes had pleaded with her to spare his brother’s life during their exchange in the throne room, and while that vision had plagued her, it was not the sole reason for her decision to send Jaime back to his cell; unharmed. The truth of the matter was, it was the Kingslayer’s offer of guidance that appealed to her over all else. To finally be able to converse with someone who had not only known her father, but her mother and brother as well . . . the thought was simply too enticing. It was true, Ser Barristan had also spent years by her family’s side, but the older knight seemed to grow uncomfortable even at the slightest mention of her father. He was loyal, and an exquisite soldier, but there were secrets she knew he would take to the grave rather than share with her.

Which brought her thoughts back, once again, to Jaime. Although his arrogance was indeed irritating, he had an air about him that suggested truth. In fact, the man seemed to be downright tactless. It wasn’t an admirable trait, nowhere near — the words he’d spoken to her earlier that day were some of the rudest she’d ever encountered — but Daenerys was certain it was what she would have to endure if it meant she could learn more about the mysteries of her past.

Surprisingly enough, Jaime Lannister had more than willingly admitted to the crimes of his own past, and while Dany was sure he had committed far more sins than could be told in the short amount of time they’d spent together, he had seen fit to admit to the ones that were most important to her reign. It was almost admirable, the way he’d handed over such important information to her; information that her enemies had spent years trying to obtain, and yet it made her no less disgusted by the man.

How could he willingly give her information that could mean his death? While he had proposed an offer of keeping his life by exchanging information with her, he had no way of knowing what her decision would be. What was more, the Kingslayer didn’t even seem to flinch at the mention of his death. What kind of man didn’t fear death? More importantly; what had happened to him to make him think so little of his life?

“Your Grace,” Tyrion announced himself, rousing Daenerys from her thoughts as he carefully approached her from the doorway.

Finally shaking away all thoughts of Jaime, Daenerys instead brought her attention to the other Lannister brother.

“Thank you for joining me, Tyrion.” Dany gestured towards the table, inviting him to have a seat. “Please.”

Stepping forward, Tyrion did as instructed, his hazel eyes going straight to the decanter of fine vintage arbor sitting beside two empty glasses on the table. Sensing the youngest Lannister’s interest in the refreshments she’d had Missandei put out just moments before his arrival, Daenerys couldn’t resist allowing the tiniest of smiles to grace her features. She knew that among his vices Tyrion was fond of wine, but his manners kept him from being the first to initiate any sort of partaking. Deciding that he had suffered enough for one day, Dany lifted the carafe and poured a generous amount of wine into his glass.

“Thank you, Your Grace.” Tyrion sighed in relief, wasting no time as he lifted the glass to his lips and drank heavily.

“I know it’s been a difficult day for you,” Dany reasoned.

“No more difficult than for you, I’d imagine.”

With a slow nod of her head, Dany cast her gaze back towards the terrace as thoughts of Jaime’s taunting words returned to her. 

_**“After all, they didn’t call him the Mad King for nothing.”**_

Tyrion’s words, however, were kind. In fact, he’d always been respectable when it came to honoring the memory of her father, which was one of no doubt countless differences he shared with his older brother. But was that respect based on anything other than the concern that she may treat him harshly had he acted any differently? Were his motives based on truth, logic, or fear?

Finally breaking away from her train of thought, Dany continued. “Yes, but my father is dead and has been for nearly two decades. Your brother is still alive.”

_Still alive,_ Tyrion repeated the words in his head, taking another large gulp of wine. _But for how long?_ How long would Daenerys permit Jaime to live and breathe the same air after they’d discussed his intentions? While Tyrion had heard stories of the Mad King’s cruelty from his brother, he’d never seen Daenerys commit any act of similarity, nor could he imagine her starting now. Not even with the man that had murdered her father.

Perching herself on a seat across from Tyrion, Dany poured herself a glass of wine as she contemplated how to approach her next question. From the moment she’d met Tyrion Lannister he had gone out of his way to shower her with his counsel. While this could be an irritating trait from many, Tyrion had the gift of very often being right. Thus far, every matter Dany had consulted him on had been rewarded by his efforts, though she knew this particular matter would be entirely different from all the rest. Would he offer her the same wise counsel that he did for everything else, or would he instead twist the results to his own benefit? What were the lengths he was willing to go to ensure his brother’s safety? Tyrion had never given her any reason not to trust him, and she sincerely hoped that he would not start now.

“If I’m to be a better ruler than my father, I need to be properly educated on his faults. Tyrion, I need your honest counsel. Can I trust Jaime?”

Tyrion could feel his fist seizing around his wine glass as he considered Daenerys’s question. Could she trust Jaime? Of course, _Tyrion trusted_ Jaime; he trusted his brother with his life, but could he be trusted with Daenerys’s? To say that Jaime’s arrival in Meereen had shocked him would have been the very definition of an understatement. In truth, Tyrion would have never thought Jaime capable of betraying Cersei in a million years. But times had changed and if anything had taught him that people were unpredictable, it was his own recent decision to murder his father.

“There is no man that I trust in this world more than my brother. I admit, I was unaware of his intentions when we spoke earlier this morning, but I can assure you that he means you no harm. He has lost much over the past few years, even more so recently, and I truly think he’s attempting to seek redemption for his past . . . whether he’s willing to admit to it or not.”

Pressing his lips together, Tyrion watched as the young queen contemplated his words. While Tyrion was very gifted at reading people, Daenerys was a puzzle that he had not yet conquered. As a matter of fact, Tyrion had spent enough of his time trying to convince the Mad King’s daughter of his own devotion to her. What would it take to convince her the same of Jaime? Glancing back in the direction of the decanter of wine, he resisted the urge to groan. However long it was going to take, they would certainly need more wine than this.

Silence ensued as Daenerys continued to consider Tyrion’s words, and so he decided it best to use this time to think of more things to say in Jaime’s favor. 

“Jaime has a keen military mind, he would be helpful to you on the battlefield.”

“Ser Barristan has a keen military mind, and he’s a far more well-seasoned warrior than your brother.”

“Ser Barristan isn’t getting any younger—”

“Nor is your brother growing back any hands.”

Truly surprised by her quick response, Tyrion grew silent as he tangled fingers in his unruly beard. Well, she certainly had him there. Finally something he couldn’t argue. If anything, the young queen was reminding him more and more of Jaime himself with her sharp tongue. Indeed, the thought of the two of them alone in a room together was equal parts amusing, and equal parts terrifying.

“This information that Jaime has regarding my father, do you think it will prove useful during my reign?”

“I’ve heard many stories of import from Jaime regarding King Aerys over the years.”

“Then why shouldn’t I simply request to hear these stories from you?”

“You could . . . ”

“Yes?”

“You _could,_ but I wasn’t there, Your Grace. I didn’t see what he saw. Jaime’s told me many stories of his time serving your father, yes, but I’ve spent enough time with him over the years to know that there’s still so much more he’s left unsaid.”

“If this is simply a ploy to save your brother—”

“Of course it’s a ploy to save my brother!” Tyrion raised his voice, startling them both. Taking a deep breath, he stared into Daenerys’s eyes for one eerie, silent moment, wondering if he had finally gone too far. “Forgive me. I only meant—”

“You only meant that you love your brother and you’d do whatever it takes to save him.” She finished softly.

Tyrion nodded. “Yes, but that doesn’t mean that he wouldn’t be of far more value to you alive than dead. I truly mean that, brother or not.”

A few more moments of silence passed between them as both queen and advisor took small sips from their wine glasses. Finally, Tyrion summoned the courage to defend his brother in the best way he knew how.

“He did the right thing, Daenerys. Jaime. _He did the right thing._ Your father, he--”

“What of my father?”

Tyrion paused. What he said next would likely damn him, but he couldn’t very well leave it unspoken. If Jaime was going to be put to death by the Mad King’s daughter’s orders, Tyrion would not be able to live with himself until he knew that he’d done everything in his power to save his brother. The truth, no matter how horrible, was something that she deserved to know.

“You need to speak to Jaime about the night he killed your father. _Please._ At least give him that.”

Dany hestiated. She felt irritated by Tyrion’s words, but with it, an intense curiosity. “I appreciate your honesty, Tyrion. I’ve always appreciated your honesty. That will be all for now.”

At the sound of his dismissal, Tyrion felt nerves tearing through his stomach like a swarm of wildfire. He didn’t want to leave, not until he was certain that Daenerys would heed his advice, but he would never dare offend her by doing anything other than what she requested of him. Especially after she’d had the decency to hear him out. Standing, Tyrion bowed his head before departing through the same door he’d entered.

XXX

“You’re amazing,” Daario Naharis whispered against Daenerys’s skin.

Closing her eyes, Dany smiled as she felt the warmth of Daario’s breath tickling her ear when he whispered these same husky words over and over. Every night he came to her, and every night he told her the same thing — both before, during and after. _You’re amazing._ Lips followed the trail that his breath had left as he made his way down her neck and collarbone, planting kiss upon kiss onto her perspired flesh.

While Dany had spent weeks fighting her attraction to the leader of the Second Sons, she had succumbed not long after the Sack of Meereen. She knew that what she had with Daario could hardly constitute a relationship. The man was so far beneath her in rank, nothing would ever come of it. Here and there he spoke of their arrangement as if there was a future involved, but she could never allow it. In truth, he was simply there to provide her with some much needed release after her long days spent trying to improve the state of Slaver’s Bay. She would call on him two, sometimes three times a day to provide her with what she needed, and then send him on his way. Dany knew that her council was aware. Some didn’t mind, and others disapproved, yet she couldn’t be bothered. It was perfectly acceptable for kings to keep mistresses. Why not queens? _Why not her?_

Taking one of her taut nipples into his mouth, Daario grinned up at her. “Have I mentioned that before?”

Arching herself closer to his lips, Dany tilted her head to the side as she gazed down at him. “Perhaps once or twice.”

Chuckling against her breasts, he made his way lower, pressing another kiss to her ribcage before sliding down between her shapely legs. Planting one last kiss to her thigh, Daario gave it a playful smack before sitting up. “Thirsty?”

Biting down on her lip, Dany smiled as she nodded in the direction of a small tray of refreshments she kept near her wardrobe.

Stepping down from the bed, Daario remained silent for a few seconds, then suddenly began to ask his next question, a question that Dany had not been expecting. At least not so soon. “You aren’t honestly considering sparing the traitor, are you?”

Lounging back against her large feather bed, Daenerys watched as Daario padded across the room, his beautifully bare backside visible as he poured some of the same wine she and Tyrion had sampled earlier that day. Once her advisor had left her chambers, she’d summoned Daario to join her for entirely different reasons. She wasn’t seeking his counsel regarding Jaime Lannister, rather she desired a distraction that only he could provide. As always, he had performed to her satisfaction, but she was rather irritated to find that his thoughts had returned straight to the Kingslayer once they’d finished their lovemaking.

“Come back to bed,” She murmured, stretching herself across the mattress.

“You know as much as I adore your enthusiasm, we mere mortals need a few moments rest in between sessions.”

Rolling her eyes up to the ceiling, Dany smirked at his words.

“And as much as I know you adore me, I also know you’re avoiding my question.”

One thing Daenerys had always lacked was patience, and with Daario’s charm diminishing by the second, she felt her anger rising.

“I didn’t ask you here to discuss Ser Jaime’s fate.”

“No, you asked me here to fuck, now we’ve fucked, and now I’m bringing up the topic that we both know you’re trying — and failing — to distract yourself from.”

Reaching out to take Daario’s offered glass of wine, Dany frowned when he pulled it away. “What would you have me do? March him out to the front of the city and have him executed now that there’s finally peace in Meereen?”

“Don’t make this about what you’ve fought so hard for. Don’t make this about Meereen. _This man stabbed your father in the back—_ "

“Yes, I’d forgotten, thank you.” Dany snapped sarcastically, snatching the wine glass from him.

As if she could forget what Jaime Lannister had done to her father; what he had done to her family; what he had done to _her_. Although she had barely been the size of a speck in her mother’s womb when he’d shoved his sword through her father’s back, his actions had turned her childhood into a constant horror. Day after day, never knowing when would be her next meal, or where she’d sleep that night. Never knowing if she or her brother Viserys would ever have a place to call home again, or if they’d even live to see another day.

“You spent your entire childhood running away from hired swords sent to kill you because of this—”

“Jaime Lannister didn’t make those orders.”

“No, you’re right about that. But without him the man who did wouldn’t have sat on the Iron Throne for nearly two decades.”

Pressing her glass to her lips, Dany tilted her head back to devour its contents. She knew that the wine would do nothing to offer her a clear head, and yet in that moment, she didn’t care. For years she’d had to be the leader; the person to take care of others while doing nothing for herself. She’d never complained, not once, and she wasn’t about to start now. But she was finally going to take some time for herself. This was a decision that couldn’t be rushed, no matter how many people seemed to want her to.

“He did horrible things, yes, but he didn’t—”

“My gods, you’re defending him!”

“I am not _defending_ the man who murdered my father!”

“What are you doing then?

“I’m weighing my options the way a leader should. I’m not being rash, I’m doing the opposite of what my father would have done. I’m _thinking._ ”

“Thinking. Yes, well, here’s to thinking.” Daario scoffed, tossing his head back to swallow the remaining contents of his own glass.

Dany studied the man in front of her. Similarly to herself, Daario Naharis had never had much patience, and the small amount that he did manage to possess seemed to be dwindling away at a dangerous pace. She didn’t want their night to end on a sour note, and yet she would not spend so much as a moment’s time coddling a grown man over a disagreement. What gave him the right to hold such hatred for Jaime Lannister when that hatred so rightly belonged to her?

“Why are you so concerned with my decision? You’ve never shown nearly this amount of interest in the politics I’ve had to deal with since you began serving me.”

“Are you really asking me that?”

“I am.”

Cradling his wine glass in his hands, Daario gave a harsh laugh. No longer was his voice filled with the playfulness he’d spoken with just moments before as they had laid tangled in her bed. Instead, it was replaced by a bitterness that she had never seen in him before. It was strange, and so unlike him to be so insecure, yet somehow envy radiated from him.

Quickly growing annoyed at his indifference, Dany continued. “You swore yourself to me. Swore to obey my every order; follow my every command. Are you going to break that oath if my decision isn’t to your liking?”

“No, but that doesn’t mean I have to agree with you either.” Avoiding Dany’s gaze, Daario stepped forward, pulling on his clothes and strapping on his sword belt. “But don’t worry, my queen, I’m not going to betray you. I’ll leave that to Jaime Lannister.”

Without so much as another word or look in her direction, Daario crossed the room and left Daenerys’s chambers, the door shutting with a resounding slam that seemed to shake the great walls around her. Breathing heavily, Dany ran a hand through her tangled locks, shaking her head as she tried to fathom what could have possibly gotten into Daario. Before she could put much more thought into it however, a sudden knock sounded at the door, disturbing her from her thoughts.

Instantly thinking that Daario had returned, she lifted her head. “Yes?”

A brief pause, then the door swung open to reveal Missandei on the other side. Dany frowned, somewhat disappointed to find her translator rather than her groveling soldier, but deep down she knew that wasn’t his taste. It would take much longer for the stubborn man to realize the error of his ways and make his apologies to her, if he managed to do so at all.

“Forgive me, Your Grace. I heard arguing and wanted to make sure you weren’t upset.”

Standing from the bed, Dany crossed the room naked as her name day, not even thinking twice as Missandei had seen her nude countless times before. Truly, she was like the sister that Dany had never had. From the moment she’d met Missandei in Yunkai she had respected the intelligent young woman, and after months upon months of travel and time spent together, she had grown to care for her as well.

“It takes much more than a few petty words from an even pettier man to upset me.” Lifting her robe, she shrugged herself into it.

Gently bowing her head, Missandei made to depart, but Dany waved her forward instead. 

“Did you hear what we were discussing?”

“Oh, I . . . ”

Remaining silent, the young woman began to wring her hands, clearly uncomfortable with admitting that she had overheard their heated conversation, yet also too devoted to her queen to lie.

“I won’t hold it against you. We’re just as passionate when fighting as we are in bed, if not more. It’s no wonder you heard.”

Nodding slowly, Missandei’s cheeks colored as she looked down at the floor.

Tying the belt of her robe closed, Dany crossed the room to raise Missandei’s chin so that she was looking at her. “Tell me, why do you think Daario Naharis grew so angry with me?”

“I-I can’t be sure, Your Grace, but he appeared to be, well, he appeared to be jealous of Ser Jaime.”

“Jealous?” Dany exclaimed, even more appalled by the thought now that it had been spoken aloud.

“Forgive me—”

Waving away her apologies, Dany shook her head. “It’s not that, it’s just, I myself thought the same thing . . . but I can’t even begin to imagine why he’d feel such things.”

“Ser Jaime is . . . ” Missandei took a deep breath, clearly uncomfortable with the topic but dutiful as ever to her queen. “Well, he’s rather attractive, isn’t he?”

_“Attractive?”_ Dany gasped, shocked at the young woman’s candor.

“He is an awful man, but . . . ”

“I hadn’t thought of it. Not really.”  


Of course, that wasn’t entirely true. In fact, the very first thing that Dany had noted upon seeing the Kingslayer for the first time was how handsome he was. She’d even taken notice to the fact that his bloody and beaten state had barely done anything to diminish his golden features. But that didn’t mean that his insides weren’t hideous enough to ruin his outward beauty.

“Men are easily intimidated. I myself am not from Westeros, and even I’ve heard stories of Jaime Lannister. I have a feeling that Daario Naharis has heard those same stories.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Dany scoffed.

“It is. Men often are.” Missandei smiled gently, to which her queen quickly returned.

“This man murdered my father and you believe Daario is concerned that I fancy him?”

Shrugging her deeply tanned shoulders, Missandei moved to refill Daenerys’s glass of wine. The young translator was soft spoken and very often quiet when she wasn’t performing her duties, but Dany had also noticed that she seemed eerily wise beyond her years.

“Perhaps he’s threatened that you might replace him with a more skilled fighter.”

Lifting the glass of wine to her lips, Dany shook her head. “I haven’t even decided whether or not I’m going to have Ser Jaime executed, much less allow him to serve me.” Handing her wine back to Missandei, Dany eyed the young woman curiously. “Every one of my advisors has flaunted their opinion on what I should do with Jaime Lannister, and yet you’ve kept quiet.”

“Oh, I do not . . . I’m not worthy of such an opinion, Your Grace.”

“Nonsense. Tell me what you think I should do — what you would do if it was your decision.”

A full moment of silence passed between the two women as they both contemplated the fate of Jaime Lannister. Finally, Missandei lifted her gaze to Daenerys’s and opened her mouth. 

“I can’t say why, Your Grace — I wish that I could — but I do believe you should keep Ser Jaime close to your side.”

“Thank you, Missandei." Stepping forward, Daenerys crossed her bedroom and moved out to the terrace to look upon the city. Closing her eyes against the wind, she listened to the door closing gently as her translator exited her chambers. With a deep breath, Dany nodded as she whispered to herself. “I feel the same way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Really pleased to see how excited everyone seems to be by this pairing. As always, reviews are lovely and very inspiring to the progression of the story!


	3. Defiance

“The Sons of the Harpy,” Dany breathed, staring down at the horrible golden mask that Ser Barristan held in his hand.

The Sons of the Harpy were a group of insurgents that had rebelled against Daenerys not long after she became the ruler of Meereen. They had started out their revolution with petty vandalism, but quickly graduated to more serious offenses such as murder. It was unfortunate that the first life they took had been one of her Unsullied soldiers whom had been found with his throat slit in a nearby brothel. Unfortunate, but she also knew it was deliberate. The Sons of the Harpy were desperate to send a message, and had finally succeeded in receiving her attention. No matter how many things Daenerys currently had on her mind, the murder of one of her own would not go unpunished.

“Yes, Your Grace,” Ser Barristan replied, setting the mask down on the table in front of the queen and her council. “They left it on the body.”

“They’ve never killed before.”

“It was only a matter of time, Your Grace. Conquerers always meet with resistance.”

“I didn’t conquer them, their own people did.” Careful to make that distinction, Dany held Ser Barristan’s gaze with her own.

“They do not see us as people, Your Grace,” Mossador, one of the very Meereenese people of whom she spoke announced in his native tongue.

“Then they will have to learn to see things differently, Mossador.” Dany insisted, her voice easily switching to Valyrian, then back once more to the common tongue as she addressed her council. “This man did not risk his life fighting for his freedom so cowards in masks could take it away, and I did not take residence in this pyramid so I could watch the city below decline into chaos.”

Clearly troubled, she moved past Missandei and turned to Grey Worm. “What was the name of the man you lost?”

“White Rat, Your Grace.” Grey Worm responded quietly.

“I want him buried, with honor. Publicly, in the Temple of the Graces.” She ordered.

“The Sons of the Harpy will hear that message,” Ser Barristan warned.

“Make them very angry,” Mossador insisted.

“Good. Angry snakes lash out. Makes chopping off their heads that much easier.” Dany replied easily before taking another step towards Grey Worm and Ser Barristan. “Find the men who did this and bring them to me.”

Wasting no time, Grey Worm crossed the room and exited through her chamber door, obediently tending to his queen’s orders.

“Your Grace,” Ser Barristan bowed his head before hurrying after the leader of the Unsullied.

With a strained sigh escaping through pursed lips, Dany took a seat at her council table and placed her head in her hands. Though she was still considered a girl by most people’s standards and therefore vastly underestimated, she had seen much more than people three times her age since taking Astapor, Yunkai and now Meereen. Nevertheless, it still grieved her when even just one of her men was murdered out of spite. That was one less man to live freely for himself; one less man to fight in her army when she returned home.

“How am I suppose to take back Westeros if I can’t even control an inferior group of rebels in one city?”

While she had mostly been thinking aloud to herself, Dany shifted in her seat to find that Missandei had not yet followed the others out of the room.

Bowing her head, the young woman began to busy her hands by clearing the table. “It is like Ser Barristan said, Your Grace. All rulers must meet with resistance.”

Touching her hand to the gilded horns that topped the mask, Dany resisted the intense urge to shudder as she stared into its lifeless eyes. She had learned enough about the history of Meereen to know that the harpy; the figure they modeled their group after, was based on the traditional heraldic symbol that the slave-masters in the Ghiscari cities of Slaver’s Bay had idolized for centuries. This was no coincidence. Whomever hid behind these traitorous masks were obviously outraged that she’d helped free the slaves of Meereen, and who other than the slave-masters should take such offense to her actions?

“Your Grace?” 

Disturbed by this sudden realization, Dany looked to Missandei, quickly realizing that she had been so consumed with her own thoughts that she had not heard her translator.

“Yes?”

“I know that you have much to think about, but there’s still Ser Jaime to consider.”

“I’d nearly forgotten,” Dany admitted.

“Have you decided what you’ll do with him?”

While Daenerys had indeed become distracted by the attack of the Sons of the Harpy, her thoughts quickly came rushing back to Jaime Lannister and the decision she needed to make. What was she to do with her father’s killer? Should she have him executed and made an example of, or let him keep his life so that he could serve her? While she had already formed a strong team of advisors that she admired greatly, an aching gap had been left with Ser Jorah’s dismissal, and though she knew there was no replacing Jorah Mormont, she longed for the possibility. Almost as much as she longed to learn more of her past.

After another moment spent in thought, Dany leaned forward and began to give Missandei her instructions.

“I have. This is what I want you to do.”

XXX

Hours had passed since Jaime had met with Daenerys in the throne room. Exactly how many, he couldn’t be sure. Down in the dark dungeons there was no way of knowing the exact passing of time. He had, however, received three meals since returning to his cell, which led him to believe that it was nearing the end of another day. The food the Dragon Queen’s servants had served him had certainly been an improvement from the stale bread and bitter tasting water he’d received during his first week spent beneath the Pyramid of Meereen. Regardless, Jaime had not traveled halfway across the world simply to experience Daenerys Targaryen’s idea of fine dining. He’d heard tales of men whom had driven themselves mad while imprisoned because the idea of the world going on without them was too much to bear. It never seemed a possibility before, but the more time Jaime spent below, the more the thought became entirely plausible.

“For fuck’s sake, if you’re going to kill me, bloody well get it over with!” He yelled at the stone ceiling above.

How many godsdamned hours would this little queen make him wait? He’d been honest; told her everything that she wanted to know, and still she kept him waiting. The Mad King had enjoyed murdering his enemies with fire, Jaime had witnessed that firsthand, but apparently his daughter preferred a much more subtle approach to torture. Truthfully, after wasting away for days, he was beginning to consider the far quicker death presented by fire.

“Ser Jaime?” A soft voice called to him from behind.

Suddenly looking up from where he sat, as if wondering if his vulgar prayers had finally been answered, Jaime hesitated, then shrugged when he saw the young woman called Missandei standing outside his cell door. 

“Well, considering I’m the only one of Queen Daenerys’s prisoners down here — that is, _unless they’ve all died of boredom_ — I’d say yes, that’s a safe assumption.”

The queen’s translator glanced down at her hands. She was obviously a timid girl, perhaps made even more so by his presence. If he hadn’t grown so frustrated in the past day he’d spent waiting to hear what the queen’s decision would be, he may have been kinder to the girl. As it was, his voice remained hardened with anger and sarcasm.

“My apologies for your wait, Ser. I am here on Queen Daenerys’s orders to escort you to your chambers.”

Cocking an eyebrow, Jaime leaned his head back against the wall behind him as he eyed the young woman suspiciously “Is that right?”

“You will be removed from the dungeons and have the opportunity to bathe and change into fresh clothes. In addition, all of your personal effects will be returned to you. That is, of course, apart from your weapons.”

“Bathed, clothed, my things returned to me . . . Well, I’m assuming that means I won’t be walking to my death then?”

“Yes, I’d say that’s a safe assumption.” Missandei replied smartly, the barest hint of a smile tugging at the edge of her lips as she repeated Jaime’s earlier statement with much more confidence than she’d ever shown before.

Jaime grinned, pleased by the girl’s cheek. Perhaps he had underestimated her after all. “By all means, my lady, lead the way.”

With a swift nod of her chin, Missandei took a step back to allow an Unsullied soldier to unlock his cell. Once the door opened, Jaime stood on stiff legs to find that another soldier stood just beside Missandei. Growing up, Jaime had heard stories of the Unsullied; elite warrior-eunuchs bred and trained in the city of Astapor. He’d always heard that the Unsullied were not men because they held no desires, felt no pain, and feared nothing. 

Raising his gaze to the soldier that stood before him, staring with unreadable eyes, Jaime faltered, but then quickly found his words. “Ah, a royal escort. I’m honored.”

XXX

The first place Missandei led Jaime was to a large bathing chamber. It was there that she left him alone to wash away the weeks he’d spent in the dungeons below. Once clean, Jaime moved onto the sharp instruments they’d allowed him for grooming purposes. Cutting away weeks worth of filthy, matted beard, he then used the edge of a blade to shave away the hair covering his cheek bones, leaving a mere stubble in its place.

Finally proclaiming himself finished, Jaime watched as Missandei and the Unsullied soldiers re-entered the room, glancing over his shoulder to make sure that the shears provided were left in their proper place. Raising his hands as if to further prove his innocence, Jaime reached his hands down to the hem of the tunic that had been provided for him.

“I could undress again, if you’d prefer to search me.” He offered.

“That won’t be necessary,” Missandei replied, a deep blush rising in her cheeks.

Pleased by her reaction, Jaime hid a smirk as he followed the queen’s translator further down the long row of corridors. After passing what seemed to be hundreds of rooms, they came to a stop outside of a large wood paneled door in an area of the pyramid that couldn’t have been further away from the dungeons.

“These are your chambers,” Missandei announced, pushing the door in front of them open.

Stepping forth into the great room that was now apparently his, Jaime had all of three seconds to appreciate its grandeur before his eyes caught sight of his little brother sitting at a table set off to the side, cradling a full glass of wine in his tiny hands.

“Thank you, Missandei.” Tyrion smiled to the young woman, clearly seizing every opportunity he could to attempt to make up for Jaime’s assumed rudeness. Jaime had been rude to the girl, of course, but the fact that his brother made such assumptions based on absolutely no solid evidence annoyed him to no end.

“I was getting to that,” Jaime stated defensively before bowing his head toward the girl. “ _Thank you, Missandei_.”

Mirroring Jaime’s gesture with a bow of her own, Missandei offered both Lannister men a small smile before taking her leave.

“Well, I must admit, you certainly smell better then when we last met.” Tyrion began.

“That would be the perfumed bath salts. It’s lovely living like a queen.” Jaime sighed dramatically. 

Moving throughout his spacious new chambers, Jaime began to take full advantage of his newfound freedom. To his left there was a large bed, and on it laid his golden hand. Remaining where he was, Jaime hesitated briefly, but then stepped forward to pick it up. As much as he’d always cursed the wretched thing, he’d begun to realize how incredibly insecure he felt without it.

“Speaking of the queen, when you meet with her Jaime, you need to — well, just don’t be so . . . ”

“Yes?”

“. . . _**you**_.”

Chuckling at his little brother’s advice, Jaime slid his golden hand back into place over his right stump then began to work the buckles with his left hand. Once satisfied, he joined Tyrion at the table and poured himself a glass of wine. While he had never enjoyed the taste nearly as much as his brother and sister, he was happy to partake in every bit of luxury that he could after spending so much time as the Dragon Queen’s prisoner.

“She didn’t have to pardon you, Jaime. I’m not even technically sure she is pardoning you, but the odds are far more in your favor than they ever were before.”

“I’m not going to kiss her arse like the rest of you fools. The girl obviously needs someone to be honest with her. Why else would she have taken me up on my offer?”

“Again, we don’t know what she has planned for you.”

“Well, I wouldn’t have very well gotten my own bloody suite if she was going to kill me, now would I?”

“Nevertheless, it would be wise of you to tread carefully.” Tyrion admonished, irritation rising in his voice.

Considering Tyrion words, Jaime took a large swallow of wine. While he remained confident on the outside, beneath it all he had no idea what Daenerys had planned for him. Thus far she had been fairly unpredictable, which was indeed a change from her father. Aerys had been mad, certainly, but Jaime had spent enough time with him to grow accustomed to his cruelty. However, not knowing what the Mad King’s daughter was capable of was equally, if not more terrifying. 

“This queen isn’t Cersei, Jaime. You can’t very well spread her legs and fuck her into oblivion every time you do something stupid.” Tyrion warned.

“That’s for Daenerys to decide, isn’t it?” Jaime quipped.

“Don’t be an idiot,” Tyrion growled.

Before any further words could be said between the two brothers, a sudden knock sounded at Jaime’s chamber doors. Within a few seconds, Missandei reappeared, directing her attention to the Kingslayer.

“Queen Daenerys has requested your presence.”

“Has she now? Well, far be it for me to keep the queen waiting.” 

Looking back to Tyrion as he followed the queen’s translator out the door, Jaime caught his eye with a slight grin as his brother continued to scowl at him disapprovingly.

XXX

After leaving his chambers and Tyrion behind, Jaime followed Missandei through the throne room and continued further down from the top of the great pyramid. By now they surely had to have been reaching the end as they descended story after story. Behind them, the two Unsullied soldiers from earlier walked close by with their weapons clutched tightly to their sides, but rather than feeling uneasy by the attention, Jaime couldn’t help but feel flattered. Even after he’d lost his own sword hand; the hand that was responsible for taking hundreds of lives — the life of the father of the queen they served — these men had been advised not to underestimate him.

Unfortunately, just as soon as Jaime began to feel a surge of confidence, it came to an abrupt end as he exited the Pyramid of Meereen; a sudden bout of queasiness hitting him when he saw that they’d reached their destination.

Nodding towards the large boulder that had been pushed aside, Jaime hesitated. “What the fuck is that?”

“This is where the queen has requested to meet you.”

Clenching his jaw, Jaime glanced over at the Unsullied once more before returning his attention to Missandei. Neither soldier spoke a word, and yet he couldn't help but feel their eyes laughing at him. He’d only been her prisoner for a little over a week, and already Jaime was growing tired of the Targaryen girl’s little games. But even so, he would not let her think that he was intimidated by denying her request.

“Yes, I can see that . . . but _why_?”

“Queen Daenerys is merciful, as you well know, but she doesn’t like to be kept waiting.” Extending her arm forward, Missandei kept her eyes on Jaime as she ignored his question in what was quite possibly the most polite way he’d ever been ignored.

_Something we have in common_ , Jaime thought bitterly.

With one last look in Missandei’s direction, Jaime strode forward. 

_Fuck it._ Fuck the little dragon bitch for toying with him. Fuck the girl’s deceptive translator. Fuck them all to hell. Behind him, the Unsullied soldiers marched forward as he made his way through the opening. Before him, a long row of stairs had been carved from stone. Taking them one at a time, Jaime gradually made his way to the lower level of the catacombs, but came to a sudden stop when he heard the sound of the boulder being moved back into place over the opening.

“What in seven fucking hells . . . ” He muttered.

Jaime’s steps stilled as the tomb’s opening closed, leaving almost no light to see by. He was sealed in, and quickly beginning to feel even more claustrophobic than he had in his much smaller cell located in the dungeons. Narrowing his eyes, Jaime took another step forward as he walked closer towards what appeared to be a flame remaining stagnant about thirty paces away.

_"Stop._ " A strong female voice commanded him before he could move any further.

“Hello?” Jaime called out, but received no response. Gritting his teeth, he squeezed his left fist to his side, but his steps did indeed falter as the smell of burnt flesh greeted his nostrils. Of all the scents he was familiar with, that was unfortunately one that he could distinguish very well.

“Why have you brought me here, my _queen_?” His voice was edged with sarcasm as he recalled how Ser Barristan Selmy had demanded that he use that title to address Daenerys by in the future. “Am I to be trading one cell for another? If so, I’d like to kindly reject your generous offer and instead request that you kill me.”

“You’re in no position to make any sort of requests, kindly or otherwise.” Dany replied sharply.

Jaime had come to know that voice well, even after only a brief meeting where few words had been exchanged. He’d had nothing but that voice to keep him company as he sat alone in the dungeons for the past day and a half, replaying their meeting over and over again. While he could imagine that it had once been soft and meek, it now exuded power and confidence. 

“Funny, I thought the ‘Breaker of Chains’ had outlawed slavery.”

“You’re not a slave.”

“What am I then?”

“That’s for me to decide.”

Before he could think to argue with the girl any further, however, a sudden flame burst forth from the depths of the tomb. Jumping out of the way to avoid it, Jaime tucked his head under his arm, rolling a few feet on his side before looking up to find two of the most dangerous creatures he’d ever seen approaching him.

“This is Rhaegal and Viserion,” Daenerys introduced Jaime to her dragons as she stood between them, acting as though this were an entirely normal occurrence. 

_She's **fucking** mad_ , Jaime seethed. 

“I wanted you to know what you’re up against. If your offer turns out to be some sort of scheme for you to gain information and scurry back to your sister—” 

“It’s not.” He insisted.

“Well, that’s very good to hear.” She continued without breaking stride. “Nonetheless, if you ever think to betray me or make me regret my decision of allowing you to keep your life, I’ll have them burn you alive.”

“If you’re already plotting my death, why even give me the chance to disappoint you?” He shouted angrily from where he laid hunched on the floor. His temper and his frustration were on the rise, and with it, his tactlessness.

“I have more important things to occupy my time with than plotting your death, but it never hurts to be prepared.”

Jaime hesitated then begrudgingly muttered. “Fair enough.”

“Good. Now, come.” Gesturing towards the entrance, Dany raised the skirts of her cream colored gown as she moved past him. “That is, of course, unless you’d rather stay and keep my dragons company?”

Glancing back to the dragons as if seeking their permission, Jaime hesitated as he noticed the beasts had turned away to begin feasting on the corpse of whatever they’d just set flames to. Standing, he quickly scampered after Daenerys as she made her way to the exit, feeling ever the fool and hating himself more by the second for doing her bidding just as every other man on her council did. Just as he promised himself he wouldn’t.


	4. Proof

The silence between them was quite literally deafening.

Did she truly expect him to be the one to strike up a conversation after she’d just threatened to have her dragons burn him alive if he ever thought to betray her? It didn’t exactly inspire confidence. Regardless, Jaime Lannister had never excelled at keeping quiet, nor being told what to do — no matter who did the telling.

“What are you—” He began, but stopped short when Daenerys cut him off with her fierce gaze.

“Do not ask me what I’m going to do with you. I don’t know what I’m going to do with you; I only know that I’m not going to kill you.”

“Good enough for me.”

With a heated look in Jaime’s direction, Dany pursed her lips as she watched him simply shrug her decision off as if he could care less. How could he be so nonchalant? Most men would have fallen down to their knees with grateful tears running down their cheeks as they thanked her for such mercy. But not Jaime Lannister. He was so incredibly  _frustrating_.

As soon as they exited the catacombs, the two Unsullied soldiers from before joined them. At least, Jaime assumed it was the same two from before. It was a bit difficult to be sure considering they appeared to be an army of eunuch clones. 

Thinking back to his recent brush with death, he cleared his throat as they began to approach the colossal fortress.

“I thought you had three dragons.”

“What?”

“Dragons. Three of them.”

“I do.”

“Numbers haven’t always been my strong suit, but I believe I counted two.”

“Drogon. He . . . disappeared, a few weeks ago.”

Jaime kept quiet at this revelation, but Daenerys could see his hesitation from the corner of her eye.

_What in Seven Hells am I doing?_

Narrowing her eyes, Dany clenched her small fists to her sides. Already she was providing the Kingslayer with valuable information that he could be trading with his sister. Of course, from now on he would be watched so closely that he wouldn’t be able to so much as draw a single breath without her knowing. Still, the thought left her deeply unsettled.

“I’m surprised your soldier isn’t here with you.” Jaime commented after another moment spent in silence.

Whether he could feel her discomfort on the former topic and had decided to change it, Dany couldn’t be sure. It seemed a gesture entirely too kind for him to commit. Either way, she was almost grateful. _Almost_.

“Ser Barristan?”

“No, not Barristan; the one who beat me to a bloody pulp. Didn’t catch his name in between the various blows to my face. Strong fellow, dark hair,” Touching his left hand to his chin, Jaime raised his eyebrows in a mocking imitation of whom he spoke. “Beard.”

“Darrio Naharis.”

“Ah, right. Daario Naharis.”

Dany arched an eyebrow. “Was there a point to your question?”

“Just surprised he left your side. He seemed very . . . _attached_ in the throne room.”

“He felt his queen was threatened and he protected me. He did his duty.”

“Of course! A shackled, starved man who hadn’t seen the sun in over a week. I certainly must have been a terrifying threat to behold.”

“Is this all you’re going to offer me? Petty arguments? Because if this is it, you can return to your cell and rot.”

Jaime tried but failed at hiding the smirk that greeted her words. He could see that Queen Daenerys’s patience with him was growing thin, but couldn’t resist the temptation of paying her back after the gruesome little stunt she’d just pulled in the catacombs. However entertaining he found the situation to be, he knew he needed to control himself.

"All right then,” Opening his arms wide, he gestured, signaling that he was an open book ready for the taking. “What would you like to know, Your Grace?”

Dany watched him with careful eyes. How had this man survived serving kings as long as he had, talking the way he did? He was absurdly arrogant, and she had a feeling that he didn’t just act this way when he was around her.

“Your brother told me to ask you about the night Robert Baratheon’s rebellion came to an end. The night you murdered my father.”

_As if I needed a bloody reminder._

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes up to the gods, Jaime nodded. “Is that where you’d like for me to start?”

Of course Dany wanted to know what Tyrion meant when he’d told her that Jaime had done the right thing in killing her father, but she didn’t think that was a story she was quite ready for. Not yet.

“No, I want you to start from the beginning.”

Over the next several minutes, the unlikely pair entered the great Pyramid and climbed story after story until they settled in her council chambers. Although her Unsullied usually guarded the outside of her quarters, they made an exception due to the Kingslayer’s presence, and stood at the entrance with their swords by their sides.

Smoothing out her skirts, Dany took a seat at the council table, signaling for Jaime to do the same.

“How did you come to be a member of my father’s Kingsguard?”

Following Daenerys’s lead, Jaime sat down across from her.

“I squired for Lord Sumner Crakehall for a time. When I was thirteen I won my first tourney melee and was quickly thrust into my first battle; the battle against the Kingswood Brotherhood. That same day, I was knighted on the battlefield by Ser Arthur Dayne. After that, people began to take more notice of me. One of those people happened to be your father.”

“And why would you choose to devote your life to the Kingsguard at such a young age? You had your whole life to live.”

“Curious, aren’t you?”

Jaime couldn’t help but feel a bit flattered by her interest. Daenerys, however, did not look too pleased with this assumption.

 _The truth._ Jaime had to remind himself often that this was what was required of him now. Nothing more, nothing less.

“Well, it seemed simple at the time. I was in love, and that’s what I thought I had to do to be with the woman I loved.”

Dany paused in thought. She understood that he meant Cersei, and she knew better than anyone that you couldn’t choose who you fell in love with. Truthfully, Dany didn’t even begrudge him the fact that he was referring to his sister. However, she did not understand his declaration considering the fact that once a person became a member of the Kingsguard, they renounced all rights to titles and marriage.

“You joined the Kingsguard to be with Cersei?”

“Yes, you could say that. You see, on my way back from the battle I returned to Casterly Rock where my dear sister informed me that my father was planning to wed me to Lysa Tully. Neither of us could allow that, so Cersei suggested that I vie for a position on the Kingsguard. That way, I could stay with her in King’s Landing.”

Setting her arms forward on the table, Dany nodded her understanding, willing Jaime to continue.

“My father was enraged, of course. After all, I’d destroyed his legacy and title all in one fell swoop. He feigned illness and resigned from his position as your father’s Hand. Seemed Cersei hadn’t foreseen this awful hitch in her brilliant plan.”

“But my father, he was impressed enough with you that he anointed you as the youngest member of the Kingsguard?”

Jaime scoffed. “Your father didn’t give two shits about me. Your father wanted to rob my father of his heir, and that’s exactly what he did.”

Dany froze, frowning as she processed his bitter accusation. “And you know this to be fact?”

Jaime thought on that, a slow albeit cold smile crossing his features as he did.

“I didn’t know for sure in the beginning, but by the end . . . by the end your father often bragged about it. He found it a great achievement; stealing Tywin Lannister’s firstborn son. The only son he infamously cared for. Still, I suppose we both got off easy compared to the countless other sons and fathers Aerys burned alive when disobeyed.”

Dany’s large eyes widened despite her wish to look indifferent. Turning her head away, she took a deep shuddering breath while gripping the edge of the table. Jaime watched her reaction with a slightly clenched jaw. He could see that he had given her a lot to process. Poor girl. They were only getting started. Sensing her unease, he frowned as he saw the tiny crease in her brow begin to worry, strangely finding that he did not enjoy seeing her so troubled. Hoping to perhaps soothe her, he cleared his throat and continued on by changing the subject.

“I much preferred spending time with your brother.”

“My brother?” Dany inquired, clearly caught off guard. The only brother Dany had known was Viserys; a brother who had been cruel to her since the day she was born. Of course, he couldn’t mean Viserys. He had to have meant . . . 

_Rhaegar._

“Rhaegar was a good man. He was a good leader. Smart, determined, strong-minded and just.”

“They say he took Lyanna Stark against her will; locked her away in a castle and raped her. Is this true?”

“I cannot speak for the dead, Your Grace, but those rumors do not reflect the man that I knew.”

Jaime kept quiet as he let Dany take his words in. After a few seconds, he gently continued with his story.

“The last night I saw Rhaegar, I begged him to let me join him at the Trident; to face Robert, but he insisted that I stay back to guard Elia and his children. I nearly defied his orders, but he promised me that things would be different upon his return.”

“What do you think he meant by that?”

Jaime hesitated, remembering the deadly serious look in Rhaegar’s eyes that night all too well. Eyes that haunted him; eyes that he saw in the young woman currently sitting across from him.

“I think he meant to overthrow your father. He knew better than anyone that Aerys had truly lost all sanity.”

Dany nodded slowly. She was amazed at how easy it was to talk to Jaime about his past; almost as if he hadn’t been the one to change her entire future.

“You said you spent time with him?”

“Yes. As a matter of fact, I was with Rhaegar the first time I got well and truly shit-faced.”

Dany raised an eyebrow at his vulgarity, but did not chide him, instead urging him to elaborate.

Jaime chuckled at the memory.

“One day, I was part of the guard that walked through the city with Rhaegar. Of course, he hated having a royal escort wherever he went. He liked blending in among the common people; he even liked to sing to them.”

“He sang?”

“He loved it.” Jaime smiled at the memory. “In fact, Rhaegar would walk up and down King’s Landing, singing to the people just like all the other minstrels.”

“What did you do?”

“I made sure no one killed him, and I collected the money.”

“He was good?”

“Very.”

“And what did he do with the money?”

“One time he gave it to the next minstrel down the street. He’d taken over the man’s usual perch, so it was only fair.” Counting off his fingers, Jaime continued. “Another time he gave it to an orphanage in Flea Bottom. And another time, well, like I said; we visited a tavern and he got me well and truly pissed.”

They shared a laugh.

“And did you sing with him, Ser Jaime?” Glancing into the direction of his missing hand, Dany tilted her head. She’d nearly forgotten that he was without his sword hand, as the golden prop had become a good substitute. “Perhaps play an instrument?”

Lowering his gaze, Jaime chuckled. “Can’t say that I did. Even before I became a cripple, I was never particularly musical.”

“What happened?” Dany finally asked, her gaze lifting from his arm to his face.

Jaime wavered, surprised that she had not already heard his gruesome tale. Nevertheless, he continued as if unabashed.

“After escaping Robb Stark’s camp, I was held prisoner by one of his bannermen, and . . . got a little cheeky, I suppose.”

“No —  _you? Cheeky?_ ” She feigned surprise.

They shared a small smile. It was nice to see her smile for once. She wore it as beautifully as the silk gown that clung to her figure.

“I suppose there is a sense of irony; loosing the hand that I used to kill your father.” He admitted.

“Yes, there certainly is.” She agreed.

Before another breath could be taken, the sound of nearly a dozen footsteps interrupted their pleasant moment of silence.

“Pardon, Your Grace,” Tyrion began as he burst through the open chamber door. “I apologize for the intrusion, but there’s news of the Sons of the Harpy.”

Coming to a full stop as he realized just what he’d interrupted, Tyrion’s eyes narrowed slightly when he saw Jaime seated at the end of the table.

“What news?” Dany asked.

Behind Tyrion, Ser Barristan, Daario Naharis, Mossodor and Hizdahr zo Loraq filed in and quickly took seats surrounding the table where Daenerys and Jaime currently sat.

“We’ve captured one, Your Grace.” Ser Barristan announced.

“Sons of the Harpy, they want to put a collar back on my neck. On all of our necks! Your Grace, you  _must_  kill him!” Mossodor pleaded.

“It would send a message.” Dany agreed.

“I think you should exercise restraint, Your Grace.” Tyrion suggested.

“Why?” Dany inquired.

“For one thing, he may have valuable information.”

“The Son of the Harpy has no more valuable information.” Daario interjected, his eyes flashing from Tyrion to Jaime as they sat side by side.

Whatever sort of camaraderie the sellsword may have felt towards the youngest Lannister clearly no longer mattered now that Jaime was here. In fact, the man’s dark eyes were full of hatred as he glared at them both.

Jaime stifled the urge to laugh.

“How do you know that?” Tyrion demanded.

“Because I questioned him.” Darrio replied simply.

“And the information you did get? He is young and—” Hizdahr cut in.

“He is born _free._ ” Mossodor insisted.

“Why should he want to bring back slavery? What did it do for him?” Hizdahr exclaimed.

“Perhaps the only thing that gave him pride was knowing that there was someone lower than he was.” Dany intervened. 

“They pay him. Great families afraid to kill. They pay poor men to do it for them.” Mossador accused.

“And how do you know this?” Hizdahr demanded.

“Everyone know this.” Mossador answered, matter-of-factly.

“I don’t know it, and I’m the head of a great family.”

“Here, in Meereen, before Daenerys Stormborn, the slave-masters own us; so we learn much about them, or we do not live long. They teach me what they are. All they understand is blood!”

“Thank you all for your counsel.” Dany said, not unkindly as she dismissed them.

Jaime watched as everyone around him stood, following their Queen’s command; albeit Daario doing so begrudgingly. Making to do the same, Jaime rose from the table, but stopped when Daenerys abruptly stood from her own chair, moving towards him.

“Not you. Now it’s your turn to counsel me.”

“Pardon?”

“You’ve been awfully quiet; just when I thought you couldn’t possibly be capable of such a trait. Was it not you who claimed you could make me better than my father? Talk is cheap, Ser Jaime. I require action. Now.”

Jaime stared at her in awe. Perhaps there was true fire in the girl yet. Perhaps she didn’t even need her dragons to back her. More and more, she was beginning to remind Jaime of her older brother. How proud Rhaegar would have been.

 _Proud and fearful,_ Jaime mused.

Tapping his hand over the edge of the table, Jaime pressed his lips together as he reflected on what little he had heard of the city’s recent bout of insurgents.

“We don’t know what this man did or didn’t do,” He began slowly. “Give him a trial, at least. A fair trial. Show the citizens of Meereen that you’re better than those who would depose you. Teach them a better way.”

“You wish for me to give a murderer a fair trial? The man isn’t even denying his crime—”

“You asked my advice, Daenerys.” Jaime interrupted her, his green eyes kindling.  

They stared at each other, the air between them pulsating and thickening as they both took notice to his sudden use of her name rather than her title. 

“You want to be different from your father? Here’s your chance.”

Dany’s eyes did not waver from his as she slowly nodded in agreement.

_I am **not** my father._

“I will not have the Son of the Harpy executed without a fair trial.” 

Jaime stared, taking a moment to admire her leadership, as well as her ability to take advice from the man whom she’d known as the enemy her entire life. “Would you like to continue from before?”

“No, I think that’s enough for tonight, thank you.” With a nod in the direction of the two Unsullied, Dany looked to Jaime once more. “Please escort Ser Jaime back to his chambers.”

Pausing briefly, Jaime started, but then leaned his head towards her in a slight bow, his voice surprisingly genuine as he made his departure. “Your Grace.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of dialogue in this chapter! And okay, so I totally stole a few of Barristan's lines and gave them to Jaime. But you know what? I regret NOTHING. I love the idea that Jaime is the one giving Dany all of the information; the good and the bad. As always, I'd love to know your thoughts.


End file.
